


GIRLS in the FRONTIER

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: THE iDOLM@STER
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, I'm Sorry, Illnesses, This... Is my anniversary fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: Although I lived my life imitatingMy favorite fairy tales.That image of happinessWas now already covered in dust.Outside the window the twinkling starsShine so painfully bright.I reach my hand and strongly wish forA place that sparkles brighter than a ball.-GIRLS in the FRONTIER





	GIRLS in the FRONTIER

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izukasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukasa/gifts).



> Happy anniversary!
> 
> Please check out the art I did for the anniversary on my Instagram (@twinwingedaria)!
> 
> There's no excuse for this.

Everything feels like it's in slow motion.

Like someone ripped the clock out of her chest, threw it, and watched it shatter into smaller, almost microscopic pieces, broken beyond fixing. Maybe that is what happened; after all, she isn't stuck in here in this world of white for no reason.

A beep tears through the silence. Then another, and another, and another, and if she wasn't unable to move, she'd get up and turn off the life support.

_ Beep. _

It's the same, repetitive sound, over and over again, and the more Minami hears it, the more she thinks that it's like a clock in a classroom. Your eyes train on it, even when you really should be paying attention, until the moment you hear the bell resound, and then you rejoice. Only now, Minami is listening to beeps rather than ticks, waiting for a rather morbid 'freedom’–a freedom from the IV drips, and the insomnia, and the haunting knowledge, like daggers into her consciousness, that everyone else is out performing, (she should be, too), blissfully unaware that's she's dying–knowing that she won't be able to hear the silence, feel the sensation of life ending,  or see her slow, almost crawling heartbeat steady to a flatline.

Perhaps, it's for the best.

Minami tries to move her finger, just an inch, a small step carved out in blood and tears, but she can't. She can't do aught but lie her and wait for a miracle or for the end of her life–and she knows she's out of miracles.

If she could make a noise, if she didn't need this oxygen mask to do something as simple as  _ breathe _ , she would hum the song she was supposed to perform as a backup dancer with everyone else.  _ 'GIRLS in the FRONTIER’ _ , it's a strong song, perhaps that's why fate decided not to let Minami perform. As much as she lies to herself and everyone else, saying  _ I'm fine _ and  _ nothing's wrong _ , what they don't realize (what she had tried to forget), is that she isn't okay, and she never was.

Last year had been splendid, a sort of  _ “one night illusion”,  _ if you would (even though she's dying, Minami still finds time to make puns–well, it's not like her time is occupied anywhere else, it's more like she finds the  _ spirit  _ to do it). She'd been one of the lead performers for  _ Illusionista!! _ , so she had prayed upon the stars that Anya worships so much that she wouldn't collapse.

Footage of  _ Silver and Dolphin and the Hot Wind _ was going to played at the live, as a sort of montage of all the performances that year. It had been fun, performing alongside two of her juniors to perform such a light-hearted song, but knowing that it was the last live she got to perform makes her heart ache. Even if, by some miracle, she survives, she won't be able to return as an idol. Papa had been against it the entire time, against the skimpy outfits and the male fans that would gush over her, but most off all, he had been against the mere thought of her doing  _ another  _ thing to endanger herself.

Why did she have to be born like this, so pitifully fragile, like she was nothing more than a fragment of glass? As a child, she'd done well to not push herself, and didn't have to grow up in a hospital like Karen had, but because of that, she'd lost the awareness of her weakness. Guilt courses through her as she remembers that both Karen and Nene, two young girls who have had to know too much about the pain of disease and sickness, will learn that one of their seniors died like that, and remember their own suffering.

If only she could have gone to the live and had been able to perform. It would've been a death ticket, she knows, but at least she'd die with the image of  _ strength _ implanted into the hearts of everyone who witnessed it. Dying like that would've been a blessing.

Instead, she had to collapse preparing breakfast for herself. Knowing that her father will have to explain that to someone when they ask about her death makes her feel embarrassed to her core, but also weak–at least if she died on stage, she would have died making other people happy, but instead, she died doing mundane morning routines.

In her mind, she hums through the lyrics of  _ GIRLS in the FRONTIER _ again:

 

___ Although I lived my life imitating _ __  
_ My favorite fairy tales. _ __  
_ That image of happiness _ __  
_ Was now already covered in dust. _ __  
_ Outside the window the twinkling stars _ __  
_ Shine so painfully bright. _ _  
_ _ I reach my hand and strongly wish for _ _  
_ __ A place that sparkles brighter than a ball.

Now that she's dying pitifully like this, those lyrics have a new sense of realness. Everyone else is out performing and making more dreams come true spreading happiness, while Minami sits here uselessly. She had always been jealous of the others, able to perform to their heart's content without the small risk of  _ death, _ she'd always tried to pretend that she was the same, just another idol like everyone else. They might not have thought it was much, she thought of them as fairytales, fairytales that she had spent too long chasing–too long denying that they're out of reach.

_ Even though I keep waiting, _ __  
_ I couldn't get my real treasure. _ __  
_ I'll shout them out 'cause I love you! _ _  
_ __ With my own words….

Oh, if she could, she would shout for the world to hear. Apologies, and wishes, and regrets, and hopes, and more apologies lie on her tongue like poison, and she wants nothing more than to free herself from those thoughts. Maybe, when she's an angel watching over everyone else, or maybe a ghost, or whatever else might happen when she's finally dead, she'll find a way to share those feelings with everyone else. But right now, she has to hold them at the back of her through like bile.

_ Clear a path! _ __  
_ Carrying a backpack filled with hope, _ __  
_ Cinderella walks on her own two feet. _ __  
_ Don't entrust your dreams to other people; _ __  
_ It's a right that should never be replaced. _ __  
_ Throw away the fantasies provided to you, _ __  
_ And soar to brand new horizons. _ __  
_ There you don't need to protect the past. _ _  
_ __ Always stay at the frontier!

She might be crying now. Everything is so icky and gross around her that she isn't really sure. She probably is.

There are no 'new horizons’ for her, she was never given any 'fantasies’ (though she humored herself with a few–with far too many); there was never a frontier awaiting her–she just pretended and made everything even more painful in the end.

God, she's just making it worse.

She hopes that Papa, Mama, her brother, Anya, Ranko, Kanade, and everyone else will just forget about her. Lingering around as a toxic dust of guilt and sorrow, a cough that makes their hearts ache is the last thing she wants.

She had given Papa her will when she started college:  _ cremate me and let me join the ocean.  _ Later that night, she had seen him leaning over on his bed, that sheet of paper wrinkled in his grasp, cheeks tear-stained and eyes red as he sobbed uncontrollably; after that, she visited a shrine to pray that she'd live until after all died, so that he would never need to cry like that again.

So much for that.

Her eyes flutter, the steady beeps must have been acting as a white noise, she suddenly feels unfathomably tired. The chances of her waking up again are slim; these white hospital walls are probably the last thing she'll ever see.

_ Goodbye _ , she thinks, imagining a starry sky as she drifts off to sleep for what she knows will be the final time.

* * *

 

Minami's eyes crack open a fraction: there's white, it's a little hazy, definitely not like the hospital room, and two figures are looming over her. She blinks and tries to focus on them. As the two figures shift into clarity, she realizes that it's Anya and Ranko, tear-stained faces showing looks of astonishment.

There's no way.

All she can hear is yelling, but none of it is distinct, syllables that combine to form words that she can't understand.

As she stares up at the two figures in a daze, she wonders if this time, she's the fallen angel speaking a foreign language.

“I'm sorry,” she mutters, even though she knows the possibility of them hearing those two words that had lied on her tongue unspoken for hours will forever rest at  _ zero percent. _

She's lost hope in miracles; her glass slipper broke into thousands of fragmented pieces without her notice, and now, those same shards of glass are stained with her blood.

“Don't cry,” she tries to tell them, but they don't stop crying, and she knows there's no hope; this Cinderella won't find her happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> The pain


End file.
